


us and them

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: 70s AU, M/M, Short and stupid, craig is Cool and Aloof until he's not, homophobia is not even a thing dont worry i GOT U, i guess its fluff, i watched too much of that 70s show and this is where i ended up, im literally embarrassed to post this, it was gonna be 5+1 but i got lazy so its 3+1, right basically tweek pines a lot, theyre like 18 probably, tweek is a tired record store cashier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tweek likes to daydream. Just so happens that Craig is a perfect canvas to imagine onto.





	us and them

**Author's Note:**

> be forgiving i wrote this at 1am   
> i was just living my life listening to janis joplin and my brain was like FUCK GO TIME   
> ps. named after a pink floyd song im very inventive ik

Tweek Tweak’s life was, by every possible definition, boring. Positively, mind-numbingly, heartachingly boring. He woke up. Stood around a dingy record store all day. Went home. Rewind. An uncomfortable phone call from home here, a rowdy customer there, the occasional attempted theft and subsequent broom chase. Stability was good- routine was good. But this? This decidedly grey state of being was slowly killing him. Seriously. He’d ask the doctor to treat him for i’m-so-bored-please-kill-me-itis if the sight of a white coat didn’t set his nerves alight. 

His job behind the check-out counter of South Park’s local record store could’ve been worse, admittedly. He didn’t really have much going for him qualities wise- dropout, not good with people, an unshakable case of the twitches and an admittedly lacklustre knowledge of music. If his boss was even half there at any given time, he might’ve had a mind to hire literally anyone else. Still, he decided to hire Tweek. The store was dingy, gaudy and in disarray at the best of times, but it could’ve been worse. In a strange sort of way, it had an undeniable comfort and charm. But what really made the store was the people- well, person. A regular, about the same age as Tweek, always conveniently stopping by on Tweek’s shifts. Despite the mild acne scarring, perpetually ratty winter hat and unwavering, flat stare, he had an undeniable aura of cool aloofness. Or maybe Tweek was just gay. Either way, Tweek found himself unable to carry out the most basic of functions when Craig stopped by. Couldn’t talk, could barely breathe, twitches hit the acceleration. He only managed to pick his name up from hearing someone else address him, god forbid Tweek actually spoke to him. 

Possibly as a domino effect of his undeniably humdrum existence, Tweek’s mind tended to wander. Of course, with Craig nearby, it was less of a tranquil wander and more of a great gallop. What else was he supposed to do? A very much mysterious, very much attractive regular with eyes like steel and an aura that just screamed ‘fuck off’? That was daydream bait of the highest degree. 

His first iteration of Craig began with a well-worn, poorly fitting Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a copy of Zeppelin IV. It suited Craig- he looked like he was all Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. Like if you placed a joint between the fingers of his right hand and a failed report card in the left, he wouldn’t look even slightly out of place. He probably did smoke, in fact. The very visage of cool- concerts and pot. Grungy venues and speakers so loud the walls shook. The kind of guy who made girls swoon and pine desperately. He probably played guitar too- maybe he was a budding musician himself. Tweek could almost see it clear as day, in fact. Craig on stage, a screaming crowd, cigarette butts littering the floor like disgusting, twisted stars. Of course, this whole illusion was shattered at the sight of a blue inhaler sticking out of Craig’s back pocket as he exited the store. Tweek was fairly sure that asthma and living like a rockstar didn’t really mix.

The second image of Craig sprung from a returned record. Never mind the bollocks by the Sex Pistols. Very punk. He could see that, too. Craig in a studded leather jacket littered with badges and viciously tousled hair. His totally blank stare sure had an aura of “Fuck the man!” about it. The image fit so well it was almost like Craig was made to be a poster boy of the revolution. A little more dramatic eyeliner here and a few rips to his clothing there and Craig could easily blend in with the ferociously nuclear punk masses. Tweek almost expected to see a large, angrily scrawled and shockingly red anarchy symbol tattooed on his arm or something. Angry, loud, uncouth, impolite and unapologetic. Yes, this image of Craig fit together all too well. Of course, this vision too fell apart when Craig asked if he could exchange instead of return and placed an ABBA record down on the counter. According to Craig’s mumblings, the Sex Pistols were a wildly off base birthday gift. 

The next ideal was born from a friend he entered with. A bouncy girl with wild curls of sandy blonde hair and a long, flowing dress. Tweek could hear them bickering quietly from across the empty store as they milled about the Fleetwood Mac stand. Craig didn’t immediately strike Tweek as the kind of person who would listen to a band like Fleetwood Mac, but if he thought about it the concept made sense. Craig’s somewhat distant or cold demeanour could easily be twisted around to match that of an airy world-peace type straight from the benevolent, swaying crowds of woodstock. Maybe Craig was better suited to the mellow tunes of Stevie Nicks and Janis Joplin than the Sex Pistols after all. Yet again, as predicted at this point, the daydream was once more shattered by a sharp roll of Craig’s eyes and a loudly exclaimed insult at his friend’s ‘hippie dippy peace-and-love bullshit’. The nasally tone of Craig’s voice really picked up when he pronounced the letter S, Tweek observed. 

Every daydream after that was just some new variation on the phrase tall, dark and handsome. Even if Tweek had picked up on enough about Craig to dispute most of his theories. However, the final blow to Craig’s perceived coolness came with the release of Star Wars: A New Hope. Also with the release of Star Wars came a very large shipment of movie soundtracks- enough to conceal an entire wall of shelves, in fact. Tweek didn’t really keep up with pop culture, but from the almost unreasonable display before him he could deduce that Star Wars had been quite the hit. Of all Tweek’s daydreams of Craig, him running into the store first thing and visibly sagging with relief upon seeing the large volume of remaining records fit with exactly none of them. Gingerly grabbing one off the shelf, he approached the counter. From everything Tweek had seen so far, he had come to the conclusion that Craig was neither cool nor aloof nor a figure of grand mystique. He was just a big nerd- and fuck. Tweek could handle nerds. Steadying his stutter and scratchy voice, Tweek opened his mouth to speak.

“Big fan, huh?” He asked, taking the record and removing the security tag. Craig almost looked surprised to learn he could speak, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. 

“Yeah, uh- you could say that.” He replied, his voice carefully monotone. 

“I haven’t seen it yet. People seem to like it, though.” Tweek continued, fighting against his nerves and momentarily looking away from Craig to ring up the record. When he rose his eyes again, there was a visible change in Craig. 

“You haven’t seen Star Wars?” He questioned, monotone facade wavering as his voice emphasised on the movie title

“Uh- no. I guess I just haven’t had the interest?” he responded, nervously turning his attention to working out Craig’s change. He could feel his stutter starting to take hold- he’d severely overestimated his ability to talk to cute nerds, evidently. He handed a few coins and the bagged record back to Craig silently, expecting Craig to leave it at that and leave. Unfortunately for Tweek’s fragile heart rate, he lingered. 

“You- I-” Craig began, pausing with a light frown. Something flickered across his eyes, like a decision being made. “Would you want to go see it, like, with me sometime? Uh...Tweek?” He asked, monotonous persona totally abandoned now as his eyes scanned anxiously Tweek’s nametag. Suddenly they looked less like a distant shade of steel and more like a warm, soothing grey tinted blue. 

And, well, if they ended up seeing Star Wars 5 separate times and making out for about 3 of them, that was better than any of Tweek’s daydreaming anyway.


End file.
